


The Mona Lisa Next Door

by Aurantiifolia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: And Sanjay is still a dick, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I couldn't help myself, Jamie has Tourettes, Jamie wears some decent clothes, Satya is autistic, Teacher AU, The engineers of OW are art teachers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurantiifolia/pseuds/Aurantiifolia
Summary: Principal Morrison introduces a new program to the art department. And with it, a new teacher.I'm definitely adding more characters later.
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Unwelcoming News

“A new teacher?” Jamison interrupted, furrowed eyebrows and leaning forward in his seat. “What happened to the last bloke?”

Torbjorn, otherwise known as Mr. Lindholm, otherwise known as head of the art department of Overwatch High School, stood in the middle of a semicircle of chairs leading the back to school meeting. It was already quiet in the too air conditioned orchestra room they were occupying, but the expectant gazes of his coworkers made the very atmosphere around him heavy. He ran a calloused hand over his face and sighed.

“Morrison made a deal with Vishkar, sayin’ somethin’ about ‘needing the upgrades’-”

Brigitte didn’t miss a beat.

“Wait. Vishkar?” 

She raised an eyebrow from where she was reclined, arms crossed.

“Isn’t that an animation company? What do they want here? We’re just fine with traditional art and photography.”

“That’s what I said!” Torbjorn harrumphed, throwing an arm in frustration. “But it doesn’t matter. Vishkar told Morrison that the best way for students ta get into prestigious art schools is fer them to have experience in ‘various forms of art’,” he air quoted. “That includes digital. And if that’s what’s best fer the students, then I can’t complain.”

Torbjorn looked up solemnly from his shoes to the teachers gathered around him. The art department wasn’t big, but it consisted of the best professionals in their crafts.

Mako Rutledge, teacher of painting and art history. The man is colossal, intimidating to say the least, but he handles a paintbrush with the delicacy of the queen and her most prized tea cup. As a fellow of few words, his history lessons are brief, but to the point, only including random fascinating facts here and there when he thinks the students will enjoy them.

Jamison Fawkes, teacher of beginning art and advanced drawing. For a man with Tourettes, his surprisingly steady hand has won him many awards for his work and landed him on the monetary receiving end of very successful auctions. He’s best known for portraits and when he’s not busy pulling up speed drawings on YouTube to strike inspiration in his students, he’s stifling curses when organizing the supply closet. 

Brigitte Lindholm, teacher of photography for visual arts and journalism. She hardly spends time in her classroom because she believes working outside frees the mind. The rare times she holds class inside due to the students having a district assigned test, she occupies herself by Photoshopping her students’ attendance pictures together on the projector for all to see and scolding them with a challenging grin when they get distracted. 

And then Torbjorn Linholm himself, teacher of ceramics and clay work. He’s taught the class since the doors to Overwatch High School first opened and has no plans of retiring any time soon. His lessons are taught loudly and gruffly, but when throwing (shaping) clay on the potter’s wheel, his fingers are gentler than the beat of a butterfly’s wing. He takes immense pride in his work and no soul but he is allowed near the kiln because he’s “the only one that can handle the heat”.

“They takin’ the room b’tween Brig an’ me, right?” Jamison questioned from his position.

“Ay,” came Torbjorn’s answer. “She will finally put some use to that computer room in the back. Speakin’ of which, I need to dust out that room before-”

Jamison and Brigitte spoke at once.

“She?!”

Torbjorn gave them both a furrowed brow.

“Ay. Why are you two so riled?”

Jamison adjusted his posture from where he was lent all the way forward. A hand waving in the air as he answered.

“I dunno. Just used to Brig bein’ the only girl ‘s all.”

Brigitte looked over at him with a sparkle in her eye.

“Another woman!” She then turned to her father. “Papa, Vishkar is male dominated, as most animation studios are,” she said rolling her eyes. “She must be talented! Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

Jamison dug his peg leg into the carpet to make his sixth circular indent in a row.

“I just hope she’s not a snob. I feel like everyone from that studio is.”

“Ay," Torbjorn agreed. “I don’t think I could handle it on top of these new developments,” he said shaking his head slowly.

“So when do we meet her?” Mako rumbled, attracting everyone’s attention.

Torbjorn visibly racked his brain before answering. “The week before school begins, they’re sending a team to drop off the necessary software. Organizing it and what not. They’re flying ‘er out from India, and she’s on a project right now, so we won’t meet her until... the first day of school.”

“Damn.”

“Crikey.”

“Ay.”


	2. First Day Pt. 1

The art hall was on the second floor at the very front of Overwatch High School. Torbjorn stretched his toes to look over the balcony and mentally praised the architect that designed the building for the hundredth time. Designing the art hall to be the first thing other than the front office to be seen was such a skilled maneuver so that he and his fellow art teachers could proudly display their students’ work where anyone who entered the school, or passed by it on the street could see it. 

He nodded in approval at the Welcome Back sign he and his coworkers created in unison, and inhaled the early morning school air conditioning before teenagers raided it. A cup of black coffee in hand, Torbjorn began his trek to the history hallway to haggle his oldest friend Reindhardt before it was time to allow students in. 

Mid-way down the hall, the sound of crisp heels striking the marble floor on the level below him gave him pause. Few teachers arrived at school this early, and he knew who those few were. None of them were situated in this sector of the campus. He turned and took a scalding sip as he waited. It wouldn’t take long for the owner of the heels in question to climb the stairs and make an appearance.

Seconds later, one half of the double doors swung open with an impressive gust of air. The woman held the door aloft with one arm while she pulled a small expensive suitcase behind her with the other. Noticing the only other organism in the otherwise empty hallway, she placed both hands on the luggage handle and raised her chin.

Torbjorn noted the soft gray toned jacket and pencil skirt, black Louis Vuitton’s, severe low bun, sharp eyes, sparkling gold nose ring, matching mauve lipstick and bindi, and quickly came to a conclusion.

“Ms. Vaswani!” he blurted.

She appraised him with barely raised eyebrows.

“Indeed. I take it you are Mr. Lindholm?”

The man immediately shuffled over to her, coffee sloshing in his mug, and offered his hand.

“Bah, Lindholm is fer the kids. Ye can call me Torbjorn,” he grinned.

Her eyes widened at the abrupt approach and her fingers did an uncomfortable dance on the suitcase handle before she hesitantly slipped her hand into his where he gifted her a hearty shake.

Her lips turned up at one corner and the unease was evident in her eyes.

“Then you may call me Satya.”

Torbjorn nodded and turned with a curl of his fingers that beckoned her to follow him.  
“I was on my way to visit an old friend before they let the rascals in,” he started. “But showin’ a new friend around would be an honor. This here is the art hallway. On yer left would of course be the balcony. My favorite balcony in the school if we’re bein’ honest. Splendid view any day. On yer right would be the art classrooms. Mine is here at the start of the hall. Or end, dependin’ on how ye see it. Next is Jamison’s, yours, Brigitte’s, then Mako’s at the other end.”

Satya studied the red brick of the wall she would pass everyday in this new place of work, then the sign that was taped to it. A quaint thing that covered a decent portion of the surface with comic styled explosions, pigs with angel wings, photos of buildings and nature, and what looked to be shards of painted ceramic framing the entire thing. With an amused nasal puff of air she turned her attention to the ceiling where stars on streamers hung above the area the sign occupied.

“That was Jamie,” Torbjorn sighed. “He saw ‘em buried in the teacher’s work room closet and begged to hang ‘em up.”

“How festive. And this Jamie is-”

“The drawing teacher.”

“Ah okay,” she nodded.

“Quite the character he is. Well let me show you my room, ay?”

He led her inside, explaining and gesturing to his desk, the potter’s wheel, and windowed rooms in the back.

“That there is where the clay goes. And there next to it is the kiln room. None but I are allowed to go in there,” he declared, chest inflated. “It’s a good thing there are windows or that one kiddie several years ago woulda melted the skin off his hand.”

Torbjorn watched Satya’s eyes grow.

“Don’t worry yer pretty head, the boy was fine. Gave ‘im quite the startle though and I never had that issue with anyone again.”

He raised his hand to his mouth conspiratorially. “Though between you and me, I tell the kids every year that his arm caught on fire.”

He then burst into a boisterous guffaw, hands combing his beard as he recalled many horrified teenage faces. Wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye, he registered Satya’s tight posture and confused grimace and recovered quickly.

“Anyway, er, all of the art rooms are connected as you can see.”

She peered through an open door beside the kiln room that revealed the rears of several other classrooms.  
“How interesting. I see that there is not a door between the two center rooms. Is there a reason?”

Torbjorn squinted at the clear walk space linking Jamison’s room to her own before shaking his head.

“Quite the observer ye are, but I have no earthly idea as to why,” he said crossing his arms. Then noticing the purse of her lips, he led her through the doorway with a brief clearing of his throat.

“So ah, this here is Jamison’s room. And- oh I forgot to show ye! All of the rooms have studio lights beside the regular lights.”

He bustled to the light switches at the front of the room and flicked one up and another down, a smug smirk at his lips when the room was illuminated in an ambience that made Satya hum in approval.

“Impressive for a high school with such a budget.”

The smirk dissipated from Torbjorn’s face.

He huffed as he flicked another switch down. “Ye can also focus the lights on one place in particular,” he continued blandly as a table in the back was singled out by a halo from the ceiling. 

She stretched out a hand into the canopy of light and observed the silhouette underneath it follow her movements. Torbjorn then abruptly switched back the regular lights and watched her squint with pinched brows as her eyes struggled to adjust, sashaying past her to stand by the door in the very back.

“This here is the supply closet,” he announced gesturing with his left arm. “Pencils, acrylic, kneaded erasers, rulers, paint thinner, brushes, varnish, canvases, almost anythin’ ye think ye need. Jamie has the keys to this closet as it is in his room. It’s usually left cracked for the students’ use, but if it isn’t, you can just ask ‘im.”

He then pointed to the wooden contraption on a table next to them.

“You, Jamie, and Briggitte all have paper cutters in yer rooms, though if I remember correctly, Vishkar might’ve replaced yers to the fancier kind. Pity, as this one takes good ol’ fashioned arm strength.”

Satya studied Jamison’s paper cutter, weighing the heavy sword-like handle between her fingers and raised a brow.

“The students are not allowed access to this, are they?”

The paper cutter blade gleamed at Torbjorn and he gave the woman a similar grin.

“Of course! I mean, a few kiddies almost lose a finger every year, but what’s the harm? They can grow those back, can’t they?” He replied with a thoughtful furrow of his thick brows.

Satya’s eyes turned to saucers once again.

“I’m KIDDIN’!” he roared, his short body shaking with mirth. “Only the teachers are allowed to use these.”

She blinked at him.

After a few lingering chuckles, Torbjorn crinkled his eyes at her.

“Sorry, Satya, it’s the first day of school. Just thought we could use a few laughs this mornin’.”

The curl of her lips had the potential to be a small smile if she didn’t look so uncomfortable.

“What an interesting sense of humor you have...Torbjorn.”

He shrugged and walked past her to the next room.

“My daughter says the same thing.”

A few steps from the doorway, he stopped and whistled at the view.

“Looks like Vishkar spared no expenses.”

Satya pulled her suitcase along behind her and stood by the man so she could appreciate her company’s accommodations. Every piece of technology had been replaced with a Vishkar emblemed updated version. Standard equipment had also been updated, as demonstrated by the sleek paper cutter on the counter. 

What really caught Torbjorn’s eye was the monster of a machine beside Satya’s desk.

“What in the world?!”

She turned to follow his line of sight and an almost smile graced her lips.

“That would be my Giclee printer.”

“It’s the size of a piano.”

“Not as expensive as a grand, but a smaller one, yes.”

She rolled her luggage to her new desk and Torbjorn followed behind.

“How does that thing even work?” he questioned, still bewildered. 

“It’s not impossibly complicated. Fairly simple, but it is high maintenance.”

The shorter man watched Satya appraise her new desk chair before sitting down and reclining in it a fraction, a small sigh escaping her.

“High maintenance, of course,” he grumbled. 

Then the woman looked at him from her position with a twinkle in her eye and a satisfied raise of her brow..

“And ‘none but I are allowed’ to touch it.”

Torbjorn’s eyes widened, stunned, before he surrendered to a chuckle.

“Didn’t think ye had it in ye, Vaswani. But ye won’t see me near that thing any time soon. I feel like if I touch it, it will fall apart.”

“It’s sturdier than that, but I appreciate the cooperation.”

She raised her chin to observe the landscape that was her new classroom.

With a wrinkle to her nose, she supplied, “The color of the cabinets in respect to the tile and the ceiling are a bit garish. And the… carpet in that back room-”

She rose from her chair and strode to the rooms in the back she had failed to notice before.

Torbjorn also looked around at the color scheme, seemingly for the first time before he followed her.

“Ah yes, the door on the left is a supply closet. I think older computers and other random tech are stored there for now. And this,” he pointed through the open door with a small window, “is the computer room. I never knew why it was built, to be honest. It’s never used.”

“It’s almost as if fate had it built there, hm?”

He looked up to see her interested in the layout of the Vishkar issued laptops with focused eyes. A grey counter top ran from wall to wall in the petite rectangular shaped room. Chairs were placed equal distance apart, lined up with their designated laptop. An identical set up ran along the opposite wall. 

“Ay, seems like.”

Satya walked in a few steps, a white board situated on the little bit of wall conjoining the two rows of counter finally drawing her attention. She gravitated towards it to run her fingers along the clean surface. 

“Ye should’ve seen the size of the dust bunnies in here before I cleaned it out. A whole new world, it was.”

Torbjorn watched as she then turned to the right and stepped back in surprise. 

“There’s a window here.”

“Ay.”

“I can see Jamison’s room.”

“Ay.”

“The entirety of it.”

“Ay. If yer back here, ye can wave to yer neighbor,” he chuckled. “I think the window is there to see if the kiddies are actin’ a fool or not. Ye may not be able to chastise ‘em seein’ as the computer room stretches into his, but Jamie can.”

“I see.”

One more look at the perfect view of Jamison’s desk through the window, and Satya exits the room, Torbjorn following. He stops short when he faces his left.

“Hey!” He exclaims aghast. “They replaced the printer!”

Satya turns on her heel to witness the shining structure where the old one must have been. Then she lifts her chin.

“With good reason. I’m sure the last one must have been a dinosaur.”

Torbjorn whips his head to meet her.

“A dinosaur?!” He sputters. “Ye mean the most loyal hunk o’ machinery that ever did exist! She’s been here since Overwatch learned to crawl!”

“My,” she gasps. “Positively prehistoric.”

“Prehis-toric?!”

Torbjorn is certain steam is visibly emanating from him.

Satya opens her mouth to reply but is interrupted by a call from the next room. 

“Papa, are you here? I thought you’d be with Rein-”

Brigitte rounds the corner through the door connecting the two classrooms and stops.

“Papa is this her?!” She exclaims, features bright.

“Ay, this is her alright,” Torbjorn grumbles.

There is a feeble “Oh” that escapes Satya when Brigitte grabs her hand and gives it a shake that jostles the woman’s entire arm.

“Hi, I’m Brigitte! Torbjorn’s daughter. You can call me Brig. I teach photography and we’re neighbors, as you can tell. I am so excited to finally have another woman here.”

Then she raises her other hand to her mouth not unlike her father did earlier and whispers, “I’m a big fan.”

It takes a moment for Satya to recover. She notes that the younger Lindholm takes after Torbjorn with the strength in her handshakes as she gently pulls away. 

“You may call me Satya,” she supplies with a clearing of her throat. “And you have my thanks.”

Brigitte bounces on her toes. “Papa she’s so proper! I love it! And look at all this new tech!”

A noise that is a cross between a grunt and a scoff comes out of Torbjorn.

“In case he hasn’t shown you yet, this is my room,” Brigitte says with a shrug of one shoulder that beckons Satya to follow her. “On your right is the dark room. That’s where the students develop pictures. No light is allowed in there.”

Satya places her hand on the yellow tape in the shape of an arrow that sits on a black round surface. 

“And this… is the door?”

“Oh yeah! This door is like those fancy ones in hotels that you have to push and spin a few times. Except it’s completely dark inside and there’s no glass, so there is glow in the dark tape in the direction of where to turn.”

“Interesting,” Satya whispers.

“Yeah,” Brigitte chuckles. “Freshman usually can’t find the opening and have to yell for help. The experienced photography students have no problem though. It just takes some getting used to. Just in case, you’ll always know if students are in there if the light on the wall is on.”

Brigitte points above the door where an electronic sign that reads “In Use” is currently off.

“The rest of my room is pretty standard, save for my cabinet of cameras, film, lenses, you know the sort. My kids use Photoshop, but very rarely, considering my knowledge of the program only goes so far. We do a little editing here and there for our competitive pieces, but that’s about it. Do you think you could-”

“Oh absolutely,” Satya responds, making her way around the room with her hands clasped before her. She studies the wall where Brigitte proudly has the works of her former students on display.

“There is so much potential here. The photographs themselves are of great composition, but if they had passed through an Adobe program before being printed and framed, I assure you the result would have been… impeccable.” 

Torbjorn swears his daughter is glowing from the praise.

“Right then,” the younger woman chirps. “Whenever you have the time, I am willing to learn. I want my students to produce their very best, digital touch and all.”

“Ay, wait a minute. What happened to keeping traditional pho-”

“Papa please,” Brigitte huffs. “The times are changing.”

Torbjorn’s eyes roll to the back of his skull as he not so subtly sulks. 

“That’s not what ye said a few we-”

“Papa! She’s from Vishkar. She knows what she’s talking about.”

The man raises a bushy brow.

“And if I may ask, what printer do you use to print finished products?” Satya inquires, a finger hovering over a picture of the Sydney Opera House. 

Brigitte moves to stand beside her. “So Overwatch was on a tight budget the last few years and a high quality printer for photography was not a top priority, so I bought my own. I know it’s not… the best, but it’s been doing the job.”

She gestured to a black machine that looked to Satya like a record player.

“It’s a Canon printer. I know-”

“Oh, that just won’t do.”

Brigitte shuts her mouth.

“For a family living in the suburbs, this printer is perfect. They’ll utilize it for printing out milestone pictures and sending Christmas cards or framing them for members of a book club to admire,” Satya explains with a crinkle to her nose that makes her nose ring lift. “But for art?”

She looks to Brigitte.

“Any dignity the photograph has is lost when it runs through that printer. It will have to do for class assignments, but I simply cannot allow it for competitive pieces. I suppose I can allow you to print your students’ works on my Giclee printer…”

Satya is mumbling to herself now, as Brigitte watches her, part chastised and part with stars in her eyes.

“Yes, I can possibly ask Vishkar for another, though I cannot guarantee it, but considering what you’ve committed here is a crime, they might be willing.”

“I… thank you,” Brigitte gushes. She looks to her father. “Satya comes in for a few minutes and does more for me than Overwatch has in recent years.”

Torbjorn’s frown deepens and he waves her comment away and heads towards the back door, arms crossed.

“Ye ladies better wrap it up. The bell to let the kiddies in will ring in a minute or so and I’m sure Vaswani wants to properly set her stuff up.”

He then exits the room. Brigitte turned to Satya with a barely contained giggle behind her hand. 

“He’s mad,” she chuckles.

Satya’s brows knit in confusion.

“Whatever for?”

Brigitte crosses her arms and rolls her eyes.

“He gets grumpy when he’s proven wrong or he doesn’t get his way. Men.”

“I see.”

“He’s also not too happy about all the tech upgrades. The old man prefers the old ways. You know how it is.”

“I suppose so.”

“Well anyway, it was so nice to meet you! I know you have to prepare your things before school starts. I already love you, you’re so cool. We’re gonna give these guys hell.”

Brigitte gives her a wink.

“And thank you! I literally can’t explain how much I appreciate your help.”

Satya bows her head.

“Of course. My pleasure.”

Brigitte smiles and makes her way to her own desk.

“I…”

She looks up.

“Yeah?”

“I have yet to meet the other two teachers.”

Brigitte snickered.

“Oh you’ll meet them soon enough. They usually show up late. Mostly Jamie.”

“On the first day of school?”

“Yup! It’s all part of the charm.”

Satya fidgets.

“Well, thank you.”

“Mhm! Good luck! And my back door is always open for you if you need me! Anything at all.”

Satya bows her head again and departs to the next room. 

Brigitte knows this school year will be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I based the layout of the art hallway and classrooms off of the high school I went to. I never knew why the two classrooms in the middle had no door in between them and was just a walk space, but it was cool because the teachers in those two rooms were besties ;) it was also EXTREMELY convenient when I would still be working on a traditional project (like a painting) in my 6th period room (Jamie's) and just had to walk into the next room for 7th period digital art (Satya's) without ever worrying about being late.
> 
> Also, oh my stars and garters... I realized that I switched from past tense to present tense while writing the end of the chapter and I started overthinking my whole life. So before I did something drastic, I decided to post this chapter because I feel horrible taking this long as it is. Sorry guys.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic and I am so excited. And scared.
> 
> Sorry the chapter was so short, but this is only like an intro? I'm super busy all the time so if I didn't get it out today, it was never gonna get done.
> 
> You will probably, most definitely learn some art terminology with this fic if you don't know them already :D
> 
> Comments and critiques are definitely welcome! 
> 
> Also, this ship has been needing some attention, so here I am out of my shell *rolling up sleeves*


End file.
